


It's Late

by sweetestsight



Series: Exercises In Free Love [2]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: M/M, PWP, and lube, dear god please use lube, gratuitous use of pet names, in this household we always use a condom kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 06:41:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17319905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetestsight/pseuds/sweetestsight
Summary: A month after all the drama of confessing his feelings and starting a relationship, John still has yet to lose his virginity. He’s getting a little bitter about it. Fortunately he has three boyfriends to help him out.





	It's Late

**Author's Note:**

> This is in the same verse as Exercises In Free Love but can be read as a standalone :-)

It's going to sound stupid, but he thought after it was all said and done everything would be _easy._ The confusion of being in love with his best friends, of confessing the mess of jealousy and passion that drove him to love all three of them at once, the fact that miraculously it had all worked out...he thought once it was all said and done he'd feel relief. He doesn't. He's got an even bigger problem now.

He's still a virgin, and he's _bitter about it._

It would be easy if they weren't all so considerate. He knows they're just trying to be careful. That's why Freddie only ever kisses him chastely before bed, and Roger has somehow taken it upon himself to curb his innuendos whenever they're together, and Brian goes wide-eyed and apologetic whenever John happens to catch him with so much as his shirt unbuttoned despite the fact that they’ve all shared a changing room before gigs in the past. It's thoughtful and sweet and completely idiotic because he doesn't need thoughtful _or_ sweet. What he needs is to stop beating one off in the shower whenever he catches Brian and Freddie making out, albeit sweetly, in the living room.

But no, all he gets is the two of them jumping apart and Freddie’s “We don't want to force you, darling. We don’t want to pressure you into anything, even unintentionally. We’ll wait until you know you're ready.”

Ridiculous. He’s been ready since day one.

 

It comes to a head (another term Roger’s been avoiding) in much the same way as it’s been going since the beginning. He's vaguely turned on and frustrated after another evening of Roger using him as a pillow in front of the television and the fact that something like that is setting him off is a sad indication of the current state of affairs if ever there was one. He flops down in bed while the others mill around the apartment doing dishes and getting ready to sleep and wonders if he can get off before one of them comes in. All he needs is two minutes. Probably less than that. Does he have two minutes?

He lets his hand wander as he lets his mind drift; thinks of the way Freddie and Roger looked pressed against each other in the kitchen this morning, trading a lazy kiss in front of the stove. He wonders distantly if they'll be that way in bed, if they'll act like they have all the time in the world or if they’ll snap and grab at one another desperately. His fingers finally graze the straining fabric at the front of his sweatpants and yeah, there's no way this is taking longer than two minutes. He can already feel the heat pooling, can feel--

The door swings open.

He tears his hands away as if burned and tries to reign in the urge to just follow the pleasure anyway. He desperately pulls any unpleasant thought he can come up with to the front of his mind: the squeal of calluses against strings, the smell of garbage in summer, stubbing his toe on the coffee table in the dark. It works for all of two minutes and then he’s back where he started the second Freddie walks in, half clothed and hair still damp and curly from the shower. A bead of water is making its way down his collarbone and John wants to die a little bit.

“In bed early, are you?” he asks breezily.

“Yeah,” he replies.

“It's not like you. Are you feeling well?”

Well? Not really. “No.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Freddie tuts. John has a sudden image of him in a nurse’s cap, and that is _definitely_ not something to think about given the situation at hand. When he lays a cool wrist across John’s forehead he nearly moans. “You're burning up, did you know? You could have a fever.”

“Best not to worry about it,” John squeaks out. “It's warm under these blankets, anyway.”

“Perhaps you should take them off,” Freddie says, gripping the edge of the comforter.

John grabs it and tugs it closer. “I'm alright.”

“Very well. It's a good thing, anyway. I'm freezing!” With that he slides under the sheets and attaches himself to John’s side. John remains stiff as a board, afraid to even move. “Are you sure you're alright, darling?”

How does he say this without sounding needy? It's ridiculous that the words are even catching in his throat in the first place. Of all the people he should fear rejection from his three boyfriends are at the bottom of the list. They all made it clear they'd wait for him; they want this and they'll probably feel relief to hear that he does, too.

He can't say it, though. He can't find the words. He looks to Freddie and hopes he’ll understand just by the look on his face. “Freddie,” he murmurs, then leans into the touch when Freddie traces his cheek.

“What is it? Talk to me,” Freddie replied softly.

He doesn't even know what he needs. He’s a fucking virgin. Isn't the point that Freddie understands all this better than he does?

“I can't read your mind, John,” Freddie says.

“I need you. Please,” he adds as a whisper.

Freddie’s eyes go wide. They watch each other for a long minute, and John can see the wheels turning. “You need…”

“Please,” he says again. They haven't even done anything but already John can feel his head spinning in dizzying heat. He can't make heads or tails of this conversation. He needs him, and nerves are making his hands shake but not nearly enough to overpower the sheer want. He wants this.

Freddie gives him one more look, startled but hesitantly happy about it, before pressing their lips together sweetly. John wastes no time in pulling him closer and pushing his lips apart because he knows this, despite the chaste nature of the last month. He knows how to kiss, did his fair share of making out with strangers in sleazy bars before Roger showed up with some excuse as to why he was needed elsewhere or Brian gave his partner for the night a stony look that made them scurry away with a startled, _didn't realize you were spoken for._ He doesn't know the rest but he knows this.

That’s news to Freddie, apparently.

His hands flail desperately for a moment before settling in John’s hair and pulling him closer. Somehow John ends up on top of him, which, really not ideal considering he _doesn't know what he’s doing_. But no, he likes this. He likes Freddie squirming below him and moaning when John presses him into the mattress. He likes grinding down against him and feeling his breath stutter. This is better, somehow.

Freddie pulls away finally and turns his head to the side, and that leaves his jawbone pretty and exposed and John has to latch his teeth against it then. Freddie flails again. “ _Jesus_ , where’d you learn how to kiss?”

“Freddie,” he growls.

“Roger!” he calls, then giggles when John nips at his jaw and tugs him away by his hair. “Get in here!”

“What's the matter?” Roger calls, then appears in the doorway and nearly drops the bowl he’s been drying. “Oh.”

“Where’s Brian?”

“In the shower.” He moves like he’s about to leave and then seems to reconsider and just sets the bowl and dish towel down in the hallway, eyes still glued to the two of them. “Should I go--”

“Yes!” Freddie snaps, still laughing lightly. It makes John grin and he has to stifle it a bit in order to kiss him. It mostly ends up being the two of them smiling against each other’s mouths, but that’s fine. “You're gonna end up being trouble, aren't you?” Freddie asks him. “What do you even want, anyway?”

“I don't know,” he breathes. “I want everything.”

“No ideas?”

He has ideas. He’s _tortured_ by ideas. “I just want you three.”

“It's easier to top your first time,” Freddie tells him conversationally. “Take it from me.”

John shakes his head.

“No? You want us to fuck you? Is that it?”

John swallows hard.

“It’s not easy your first time. It never is.”

“I'm a virgin, Freddie. I’m not a prude.”

Freddie raises his eyebrows. “Use your words, dear.”

He sighs, frustrated. “I know what I want. It's not like I've never tried it before, okay? You won't hurt me. I'm not that fragile.”

Freddie is staring now, unabashed. “You mean you’ve…”

Great. Now he has to explain. “In the shower,” he says haltingly, feeling his cheeks heat. “I wanted to know what it’s like.”

Freddie drags him down for a kiss then, all tongue and teeth. “How many?” he gasps.

“What?” His head feels foggy again. Foggy but good.

“How many fingers?”

Oh. “Two.”

Freddie laughs breathlessly. “You're gonna need a little more than that if you're gonna take any of us without being sore in the morning.”

Roger rushes back into the room, literally throwing his shirt off as he goes. It makes John laugh quietly to himself, but then he's sliding into bed next to them and tugging John forward, shoving his tongue down his throat in a way that has John choking on a moan. When he pulls back he can barely keep their lips apart and keeps ducking forward between words to kiss him again. “We’re going to take such good care of you,” he says between kisses.

When he pulls away finally it’s to roll to face their other bedmate. “Hi, Freddie,” he greets with a sunny smile.

“Hello, Rog,” Freddie says in kind, kissing him slow and deep. It makes John smile fondly, but then he can _see tongue_ somehow and Freddie’s hand is on his ass suddenly and his smile dies a spectacular death as he grinds forward unwittingly. Freddie apparently wasn't ready for that because he groans into Roger’s mouth and Roger guides him forward to kiss him even deeper somehow and if John just comes right here right now then really, can either of them blame him?

“Please tell me no one’s come yet,” Brian announces from the doorway, breezing in in nothing but a towel. “No? Roger?”

“Why are you looking at me?” Roger whines. “I’m not the virgin here.”

“No, but I at least trust Deaky to have some self control.”

“You'll take that slander back before the night is over, May,” Roger pledges.

“You talk a big talk, dear,” Freddie says dryly.

Brian grins. “At least something’s big.”

“You two are horrible excuses for lovers. John still loves me. John?” Roger asks sweetly. “You still love me, right?”

“I do,” John answers conversationally, a smile creeping in. It strikes him how comforting it is to slip into the easy flow of their banter. Maybe there really isn't anything to worry about. It's just them, just the three people he loves most. There's nothing to fear here.

“See?” Roger says. “John loves me. I'm sticking with him. Fuck you two.”

“That’s the idea, darling,” Freddie says. Brian laughs quietly and starts digging through their dresser for something.

“Whatever,” Roger replies. He props himself up on the pillows and then tugs John toward him, hard. John helps quietly as he rolls and falls with his back to Roger’s chest, cradled between his legs; Roger lets out a huff of air at the rough landing, but otherwise doesn't show any discomfort as he curls around him. “There you go. This is a positivity only zone. No one else is allowed over here.”

“Not even me?” Brian asks, waving the newly proffered bottle of lube and strip of condoms in the air. John swallows.

“Been waiting for this, have you?” Freddie asks him with a laugh.

“Oh, be glad someone’s come prepared.”

“No one’s come at all yet, actually,” Roger replies.

Freddie’s eyes land on John all at once, and his heart skips a beat. “Let’s change that,” he says, then falters. “Are you—that is, are you still sure about this?”

Seriously. They're all too considerate. “I've been sure,” he says as patiently as he can.

“Alright. Alright.” He swallows nervously then scoots over as Brian crawls up between John’s legs.

Brian moves until they're chest to chest and then glances at John’s lips, eyes dark before he ducks down to kiss him. It's like their usual kisses yet not, patient but with an underlying heat that has his toes curling. He reaches out to knot his fingers into Brian’s hair and files it away for future study when the movement has Brian breathing out a harsh pant and faltering against his mouth.

“Fuck,” Freddie states succinctly.

He’s pliable in John’s hands. Maybe that’s it; easy to manipulate like he's waiting for it. They move together a bit too easily, John tugging him where he wants him and watching him follow through the motions. Something about it makes him feel powerful in a way he isn’t sure he has a right to; somehow he’s in control here, and he isn’t sure how he’s earned that.

He can distantly feel Roger running his hands over his chest, calluses rough when they catch on a nipple and force a gasp from his throat. Freddie is tugging at his waistband and he shifts his hips to let him just pull his sweatpants completely off, shivering a bit at the feeling of being exposed before Brian does something particularly lovely with his tongue that has the thought evaporating entirely.

“That’s it,” Roger murmurs into his ear, breath hot and close. It has him groaning brokenly into Brian’s mouth, and Roger laughs and teases over his nipple again. “There you go, that’s it. Relax.”

“Brian,” Freddie murmurs. “Do you want to—”

Brian pulls away and John’s head falls backward onto Roger’s shoulder of its own accord. “Yep,” he says, then leans in to kiss Roger, too.

For a minute he doesn’t understand what they’re talking about, except they're both stupidly dexterous and masters of multitasking and John should _know this_ , he plays with them in a band every day for fuck’s sake. It still somehow comes as a surprise when he suddenly feels Brian’s fingers tracing over his entrance, warm and wet with lube. He gasps and then tenses when Roger pinches his nipple again, still licking into Brian’s mouth in a filthy rhythm.

“Relax, dear,” Freddie chides, sidling up next to him to whisper into his ear. “You can't get tensed up on us. Just relax and watch them. They’ll make you feel so nice, I promise.”

John forces a breath into his lungs and then wills himself to relax one muscle at a time. First his shoulders, then his toes, then his legs. By the time he lets the breath out he’s lying all his weight directly on Roger’s chest. Brian’s finger pushes inside him as he does, just the very tip of it, and he gasps again.

“There you go,” Freddie soothes. “Is that good?”

It's as good as it was when he tried it; no, somehow better. He is familiar with the feeling but not the particular sparks that come from someone else's touch. When Brian pushes it slowly into the first knuckle before pulling out again he chokes on his own breath and writhes.

“Relax for me,” Brian whispers to him. “I don't want to hurt you.”

Roger moves his hands finally to rub at his shoulders, biting at the skin of his neck when John’s head lolls slightly. “You're okay.”

“I know,” John answers, not quite able to keep the snark out of his tone. Forgive him for being bitter about being babied through this. He's nervous and painfully hard and very confused about all of it.

“Just need someone to lead by example, is that it?” Freddie asks, reaching for the bottle on the mattress. When John looks at him his eyes are soft but there’s a conspiratorial smile on his face that John can't help but return even as his body struggles to adjust to Brian’s fingers. “Bri, dear, would you mind terribly?”

“Would I mind?” Brian asks with a tiny laugh as he watches Freddie reach for the lube.

“Yes, would you?”

“Not terribly, no,” he says. His laughter dies abruptly when Freddie reaches behind him and pushes his first finger in all at once; he lets out a breath and nearly falls onto John’s lap. John’s breath catches on a gasp as he watches Brian look back, heavy-lidded. His hands seem to be moving of their own accord now, and John didn't realize how much he'd relaxed at the sight alone until Brian suddenly slips in a second finger that has him arching off Roger’s chest.

Roger tugs him back quickly, pressing a kiss behind his ear. “Easy, now,” he whispers.

“Freddie--” Brian chokes. “ _Fuck.”_ He's scissoring his fingers in earnest as if trying to pass on what he's feeling to John; it’s working, if the heat coiling in the pit of his stomach is any indication. Brian brushes _something_ and all at once he's babbling something entirely indecipherable.

Roger runs a soothing hand down his arm and then brushes the hair away from his overheated face. Something about the innocence of his touches and the way he's still clothed makes John deliriously dizzy. He chases his lips down for a quick kiss before he has to pull away on a broken moan.

“I wish you could see yourself right now,” Roger says against his mouth. “You look fucking wrecked, you have no idea.”

“Rog,” he gets out, then whimpers when Brian twists his wrist and bites at his rib cage, pushing back mindlessly into Freddie’s touch.

“You gonna come for us?”

“I don't want to,” he manages. “Not yet. I don't want--if it's over--”

“You’re getting more than one tonight, don't you worry,” Roger says. “Come on, let go. We won't be done with you after this.”

He looks mindlessly to Freddie and is almost surprised to find him already looking back with dark eyes. “You need it, don't you?” he murmurs. “You look a little like you're losing your mind.”

That's accurate. He feels tense yet weak, coiled like a spring. His fingers are heavy but twitchy and entirely useless for anything other than tangling themselves in Brian’s hair. Half-lidded hazel eyes flick up to meet his and he chokes as Brian finally gives him a third finger, brushing over that spot again and making him see stars. The pain that comes with the stretch is addictive and when he pushes down on Brian’s hand he starts pumping his fingers slowly in and out, enough to fuel the fire but not nearly enough to satisfy. John nods desperately in Roger’s direction.

“Yes?” Roger asks teasingly, hand low on John’s stomach. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes,” he gasps.

The hand on his stomach moves down to his cock, gathering precome off the head before gripping him and moving surely. The pressure is perfect; the rhythm, the roughness of his calloused palms, _everything_ , and he might die from this.

“There you go,” Roger whispers. “Look at you.” He latches his teeth against John’s throat hard enough that it will surely mark before pulling away just as quickly. “Look at you.”

It’s good; it’s better than he could ever have imagined, their eyes and hands on him like this. He trusts them with this. He trusts them to give him what he needs without question when not even he is so sure. It feels good to be taken apart like this, deconstructed under their careful hands and curious mouths.

He can't decide if he wants to thrust up into Roger’s fist or down onto Brian’s fingers, now buried up to the knuckle and so very long and clever inside him. Brian doesn't look much better than he feels, his cheeks marked with two red spots and his lips bitten scarlet. He’s at least able to meet John’s eyes with some sort of clarity, and when he does he sends him a dizzy smile. _Look what they do to us,_ he seems to say. _Look how we take care of each other_.

John squirms in Roger’s arms. It's too much suddenly, overwhelming. He shuts his eyes and buries his face in Roger’s neck.

“Hey,” Roger murmurs. “Don't hide. You're okay. Let us see you.”

“Rog, I'm,” he starts, then forgets the end of the sentence.

“It's alright, Deaky,” Freddie says then, voice soft. “You gonna come for us?”

He nods frantically into Roger’s neck.

“Come on, eyes on me.”

He pulls his face out of its hiding space finally and meets Freddie’s gaze. Brian is watching him, lips still slightly quirked in a foggy smile. Roger’s other hand has made its way into his hair and is tugging the strands back hard, the pain making his brain feel like it’s floating. It’s too much; it’s too _good_. How he’s supposed to survive this he’ll never understand.

“Let go, sweetheart,” Freddie says softly. “Come on.”

Brian kisses his ribs sweetly before twisting his fingers again and Freddie is watching him with bright, warm eyes and that’s _it._

He loses track of his limbs for a moment as he arches up. It feels like his entire bloodstream has been replaced with static, sparks shooting off behind his eyelids as he arches up into Roger’s touch. Brian’s fingers follow him through it and he squirms as they both work him through it in unison. Distantly he can hear Brian moaning and Roger whispering a constant stream of praise into his ear, breath warm and tickling the side of his face. Slowly the words come into focus.

“--so good for us, that was so pretty, you’re lovely. It’s good, isn’t it? It feels good to let go.”

He can feel Roger’s hands petting through his hair now, and if he had any sort of ability to move he’d arch into it. As it is he barely has the strength to unclench his hand from Brian’s hair. His other hand was gripping Roger’s arm. He doesn’t even need to look as he lets go to know it left a mark.

“Sorry,” he murmurs.

“Don’t even worry about that,” Roger tells him, pressing a kiss to his temple.

When he finally opens his eyes it’s to see Brian’s hazy ones looking back at him, pupils blown as Freddie continues to work him over. Freddie looks at John with a grin.

“Well, John,” he says, “I’m pleased to inform you you’re no longer a virgin.”

That’s nice. He hums and stretches. Roger’s skin feels electric and lovely against his own every time he moves.

“Good?” Roger asks him. He grabs the towel Brian abandoned on the edge of the bed and uses it to wipe the come off John’s chest, then the underside of Brian’s chin, then his own neck. “Fuck. I guess it was good.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. His head is lolled back on Roger’s shoulder again. He tilts it lazily upward in the hopes that Roger will be able to read his request.

He does, catching his mouth in a lazy kiss. It only lasts a moment; John hums sadly as he breaks away again. “We didn’t hurt you, did we? Was that too much?”

“It was perfect,” he replies. His tongue feels too heavy in his mouth and the words are coming like molasses. “Stop worrying.”

“We can stop here if you want,” Freddie tells him seriously. “We don’t need to go any farther than this.”

John pulls all his willpower together to glare at him. “Freddie, get up here.”

Freddie smirks at him and abandons Brian finally, wiping his hand on the sheets before crawling up beside the rest of them. Brian looks particularly devastated about it, eyes suddenly big and sad, and John drags him in for a quick kiss before rolling out from under him and over Roger’s leg. It leaves Roger with a lap full of Brian instead.

The second Roger’s fingers graze his cock Brian whines loud enough that the neighbors can probably hear and then immediately blushes brilliantly red. He hides his face quickly in Roger’s neck while Roger laughs, giddy.

“Know how long I’ve thought about this?” Roger asks him.

“Roger,” Brian says warningly.

“Since--I think since our first bar show.”

_“Roger!”_

“What?” Roger asks, full on giggling now.

“I was twenty! And awkward!” Brian says in reprimand. When Roger squeezes his ass he gives a full-body shudder, and John swears he can see his blush reach his shoulders. The sight makes him grin as he rolls on top of Freddie, biting absently at his collarbone.

“And I was eighteen and beautiful,” Roger laughs. “What’s your point?”

“I had--I had weird hair!” Brian gets out. He ruts once against Roger’s belly before stilling. “It was all dumb and short and straight!”

“And yet I liked you anyway,” Roger muses. “How long have you thought about this?”

Brian is silent for a long moment--long enough for John to glance at Freddie and get a knowing look in return because really, these idiots. Brian squirms again before muttering, “Since you were eighteen and beautiful.”

“I fucking knew it,” Roger says, a smile in his voice. “On your back, gorgeous. I think we’ve got to make up for some lost time.”

They shift gracelessly beside him and John smiles at them one more time before finally turning his attention back to Freddie. He’s managed to move down to his ribcage without Freddie noticing, but a hand in his hair tells him his luck has just run out.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Freddie asks him sweetly.

He looks up at him from under his eyelashes and plants a wet kiss against the side of his belly. “If I need to spell it out for you I’m doing something wrong.”

“John,” Freddie starts. “You really don’t have to.”

John has to fight the urge to roll his eyes. He settles for raising an eyebrow instead. “Does it look like I’m being forced?”

“There’s always next time,” Freddie tries again.

John mouths at the skin above his waistband until he hears Freddie gasp, then pulls away abruptly and meets his eyes again. “It sounds like you don’t want a blowjob.”

“Believe me,” Freddie says adamantly, “I _really_ want a blowjob. I just don’t want to force you into anything you aren’t ready for.”

That does make John roll his eyes. “I’m not being forced,” he reiterates flatly.

“Freddie,” Roger snaps, “would you let the man suck your cock? He’s practically gagging for it.”

John shoots him a look that’s half grateful and half reproaching.

Roger winks at him before settling between Brian’s legs. “Teeth behind your lips, and go slow!”

“Get it nice and wet first,” Brian slurs as Roger does—something John can’t quite see.

“You’re going to kill me,” Freddie mutters, hooking his thumbs under his waistband.

John beats him to it, dragging his sweatpants down in one quick pull. His cock springs free and yeah, that’s bigger than he was ready for. He can do this, though. He’s watched enough porn in his life. How difficult can it be?

Freddie’s hand runs through the hair above his ear before just resting there, warm and comforting as he watches with wide eyes.

“Slow,” Roger reminds him. “Get a taste for it first. Brian, can I…”

Brian is silent for a minute, and John takes the moment to run his tongue along the bottom of Freddie’s cock, base to tip. It tastes about the same as he expected, salty and a bit bitter closer to the head. He licks a bead of precome off the tip and rolls the flavor around his mouth while Freddie chokes on a gasp. Bitter, but not necessarily bad. A bit like seawater but strong to the point it drowns out all his other senses. He can get used to it.

“Please?” Roger asks. “It’ll be fun.”

“It’s gross,” Brian mumbles.

John spares him a glance to notice his cheeks are bright red again before turning back to the task at hand.

“It’s not gross,” Roger says.

He presses the head of Freddie’s cock to his lips like he’s kissing it and gets a light scratch against his scalp in encouragement. When he looks up Freddie gives him a tiny nod. He licks his lips before pulling his teeth carefully behind them and taking just the head into his mouth. The skin is addictively soft and he gives it a tiny flick with his tongue, then another when it makes Freddie sigh.

“I want to,” Roger says.

He takes a little more. This isn’t difficult, not really. He moves down further and further until he can feel the head of his cock against the back of his tongue and then pulls up again. It punches a moan out of Freddie’s chest when he swallows him down once more just as quickly.

“I think you’ll like it,” Roger murmurs. “We don’t have to, but—do you want to try?”

He pauses again with the head at the back of his tongue tries to work it a little further down his throat. He feels himself start to gag and breathes through it, pulling up for a minute before sinking down and pausing again. The feeling of it has a jolt of arousal rushing through him. He quells a moan and settles for grinding against the mattress minutely, feeling himself harden again.

“Easy,” Freddie breathes, rubbing his scalp. “Take it easy. Don’t hurt yourself.”

He calls back on any knowledge he’s ever had of this: pornos he’s watched boredly in the dead of night, friends complaining about needy boyfriends, a freshman year roommate who was a little too chatty about girls he hooked up with in bar bathrooms. He gives an experimental suck and then watches as Freddie squirms, cursing behind his hand.

“We can try,” Brian says finally, voice small. “Just try, okay? And if you don’t like it—”

“It isn’t about me,” Roger says softly.

There’s a hand reaching for the one John has laying on the other side of Freddie’s hip. He takes it without hesitation, the hardened fingertips of his left hand meeting their complementary set. Brian, then. He traces the calluses of their fingertips together before interlacing their fingers, other hand still moving quickly over Freddie’s cock.

“John,” Freddie pants. _“John,”_ he says then, more urgently. All at once he’s tugging John away by his hair.

John feels unease rise up in his throat, arousal dying all at once. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Did you--” Freddie laughs breathlessly. “No. Fuck, no. You--if you want me to fuck you we need to do it before you make me come like a teenager.”

All at once he’s dizzy again. “That can happen,” he squeaks.

“Yeah?” Freddie says, and laughs again. “Hands and knees.”

That’s not ideal. “I want to see you,” John protests.

“It’s easier this way. I promise,” Freddie says, watching him get into position before nudging him over toward the other side of the bed. “Here. You can’t see me but you can see Brian, okay?”

Brian proves to be a sight for sore eyes. Their left hands are still tangled together but John ends up propped up over him all the same, perpendicular to him and close enough to his face that he can take in the flush of his cheeks and the mistiness of his eyes. He smiles up at John, nervous and giddy.

“Did you get him loose for me, Bri?” Freddie asks.

“I did my best,” Brian replies, then curses and looks down to where Roger is sucking a vividly dark love bite into the sensitive skin on the inside of his thighs, already dotted with similar bruises. Roger looks up at him through his eyelashes and John can’t see his mouth but he knows he’s smiling at the way Brian’s fighting the urge to squirm beneath him. He pulls him closer by his hips and Brian’s head falls back into the pillows in a puff of brown curls, eyes half shut and his lips vividly dark.

John can’t help himself as he ducks down to kiss him, and a minute later he’s glad he did when Freddie pushes three fingers inside him all at once. It doesn’t hurt at all, far from it. Pain is the last thing in his mind, and the kiss turns more into him moaning into Brian’s mouth than anything. When he pulls away again it’s with a wet sound, and it’s only so he can gasp as Freddie teases his spot ruthlessly. “Freddie,” he grits out, and Brian pecks the corner of his mouth.

“I know, sweetheart,” Brian whispers.

He doesn't have words for it. All he can do is squirm back on it restlessly as spots bloom in front of his vision. His exhaustion fades instantaneously to be replaced with sheer need, but Freddie only continues for a moment before pulling out entirely.

He grins when John whimpers; John turns his head to see him do it. “I know,” he says sympathetically. “Give me a second.”

“Bri, are you ready?” Roger asks softly before dropping a sweet kiss on Brian’s hip.

Brian’s cheeks heat again. He blushes so easily here, and John can’t help but get addicted to it. He seems dizzy over nearly everything even more than John does.

Then he sees the way Roger has his knees positioned over his shoulders, hands rubbing over the outsides of his thighs soothingly, and it all makes sense.

Distantly he notes Freddie reaching for the strip of condoms on one of the pillows. He doesn’t have time to think about it. Even his nervousness is far behind him, lost in the heat of the moment. All he can focus on is Brian’s bitten lips and the tiny nod he sends Roger’s way.

Roger ducks down and buries his face between Brian’s legs, and Brian moans like he’s been shot.

“Fucking— _Christ,”_ he grits out, arching off the bed and throwing an elbow over his face.

Roger moves quickly to hold his hips in place, meeting John’s eyes. Somehow John knows what he needs just from his expression because he squeezes Brian’s left hand before pinning it to the mattress, capturing his right wrist and pinning that above his head. He has to fall to his elbows to do it but it’s worth it when Roger’s next move has him squirming helplessly instead before falling back onto the pillow and looking up at John with half-lidded eyes.

“Is that good?” John asks him mindlessly.

“It’s so good,” he babbles. “Oh god, Roger, don’t stop, _oh my god_.” He tries to tug his hands out of John’s grip and then moans even louder when he can’t.

John’s so lost in it for a moment that he almost forgets why he was in this position in the first place; Freddie’s hands on his ass remind him all at once. “You ready?” he murmurs somewhere behind him.

John strains to look behind him. “Go.”

He can feel his cock prodding against his hole and has a sudden rush of nerves before one look at Brian makes him forget it again. He looks like he’s steadily losing his mind and when he looks up at John again he arches his neck up toward him.

John ducks down to kiss him at the unspoken request, licking into his mouth slow and sure. He falters as Freddie pushes in the first few inches. The stretch of it burns and he’s afraid to move a muscle in case it intensifies, but then after a second Freddie pulls out a tiny bit before pushing in a little deeper and with the stretch comes a spark of pleasure at the base of his spine. He groans and kisses Brian deeper, licking lightly at the roof of his mouth until Brian shudders beneath him and goes limp, letting him take the lead. Freddie pushes in one last time and bottoms out in a single sure stroke.

He pulls away from Brian to pant raggedly. “Fuck,” he gets out.

“Okay? You’ll need to adjust,” Freddie says apologetically, stroking a thumb over his hip.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just,” he trails off, shifting his hips experimentally and feeling the overwhelming sensation of pain-pleasure-friction-need. _“Fuck.”_

Brian is watching him, eyes focused if a little wet. He tugs his wrist out of John’s grip gently before tangling his hand in his hair and tugging him down into a kiss. It’s gentle this time, soft in a way John wasn’t quite ready for. He lets Brian take the lead in brushing their tongues together, stifles a gasp as he sucks on John’s bottom lip lightly before letting him go.

“I love you,” he whispers. “You’re doing so well. I know it can hurt the first time.”

He pushes back again and feels pleasure race up his spine. The pain is fading away; it still aches, sure, but if anything it’s a punctuation to the addictive friction of it. He rolls his hips again and whimpers.

“There you go,” Brian breathes mindlessly. His eyelashes flutter as Roger drags him close again.

“Freddie,” John gets out. “You can--”

“Yeah,” Freddie murmurs. John feels his hands against his hips as he pulls out before drawing him backward and onto his cock again in one smooth thrust. It punches a moan out of him, and Brian’s eyes brighten.

“It’s good,” Brian murmurs. “Feels good like that, doesn’t it? Good to be filled up like that.” He whimpers a moment later when Roger finally pulls away from him, nipping one of the marks on his thighs.

“Is that you asking for something?” Roger asks, looking up to John with a grin.

John can barely grasp onto a single thought, but somehow he picks up on that enough to wordlessly thrust an open hand back toward Freddie. He hears Freddie scoff out a quiet laugh before dropping the bottle of lube into John’s waiting palm. It’s a long reach, even further when clarity is so hard to grasp, but somehow he manages to pass the bottle off to Roger.

“Thanks, doll,” Roger says with a sunny smile, squeezing a dollop onto his fingers. “How are you doing over there?”

His brain feels like it’s floating on the surface of the ocean, moving with the waves and wind. Or maybe that’s just his body moving along to Freddie’s pace. It takes him a long moment of deep thought before he can even understand the question, let alone form an answer. “Good,” he manages. His voice comes out breathy and thin and Roger’s smile widens. “Really good.”

“ _Really_ good,” Freddie murmurs. He hasn't sped up yet but his pace is steady and even, allowing John to move with the rhythm of it as he adjusts. Freddie’s hands are warm and comforting on his hips and Brian’s hand is still tangled in his hair, and between the two of them John feels safe and foggy around the edges. He can feel pleasure building up again, tugging something inside him and making his vision blurry. The pain is a distant memory.

He notices Roger move his face between Brian’s legs again, this time joined by his fingers, but he really sees it happen on Brian’s face just a scant few inches below his own. There’s an overwhelming intimacy to this: watching his eyelashes flutter, watching his lips fall open in a silent moan, watching his free hand grasp at nothing as he squirms. He's watching John the whole time too, and John knows he must look no better. He’s having trouble keeping his eyes open and his moans contained and feels like he's only seconds away from just begging Freddie to speed up then and there; he settles on pushing back and interrupting his rhythm in favor of a faster one and hearing him gasp.

“Chest down,” Brian says to him. It's really more of a half moan, but he moves his hand from John’s hair down to tug at his shoulder blades and John gets the idea. “It's better. Easier.”

John lets his chest drop until they’re nose to nose again, his back bowed harshly and all his weight on his palms. And it’s good like this; he can push back against Freddie easier, can reach Brian’s lips easier. When he kisses him Brian licks into his mouth easily, his lips trembling a little as he lets out a muffled moan that John quickly swallows. He can feel Freddie tracing the curve of his back with one warm hand, can feel Brian’s nails biting into his shoulders mindlessly. He has half a mind to reprimand him for it but the pain is _good_ somehow. It cuts through the pleasure and makes everything feel suddenly more intense. He lets out a whine and feels more than sees Brian smile.

“You’re gonna end up being kinky, aren’t you?” Brian whispers.

John feels his cheeks heat and hopes the other two didn’t hear him. Evidently it’s already too late. Freddie lets out a little snort and grips his hips that much harder, thumbs digging into the bone. It’s a horrible bone-deep ache, or it would be if it didn’t somehow ricochet off the pleasure and intensify everything; he’s breathless, and when Brian kisses him with startling gentleness he feels like he’s losing his mind a little bit.

“Do you like it like that?” Freddie asks him. John expected his voice to be cruel, but he sounds more dazed than anything; almost like he wasn’t expecting this outcome and is pleased that it’s worked out this way.

“Freddie,” he starts, then doesn’t know how to finish it. He thrusts forward uselessly; he needs relief, needs _anything,_ but there’s nothing there. His left hand gropes uselessly until it lands on Brian’s hip; Roger’s fingers are there already and he laces his with John’s without pausing for a beat, squeezing them encouragingly.

“Hush, darling,” Freddie says softly, then leans down until John can feel his chest blanket his back, his lips suddenly at his ear.

It changes the angle; his next thrust is easily much more gentle but sends sparks shooting up his spine that have him collapsing forward onto Brian’s chest. His vision blooms white; he's breathless for a long moment, hovering in empty space before Freddie’s next thrust lights him up again and has him muffling a moan into his elbow. It was a soothing rhythm before but now it’s just mind-numbingly good. He feels like he's going to melt.

“You alright?” Freddie murmurs.

He makes to slow down and John turns to look at him, eyes heavy lidded and unfocused. “Don’t you dare,” he says.

His voice comes out hard and sharp, enough that Freddie’s eyes go wide in surprise. “Like that?” he asks on a breath, warm against John’s ear.

John nods helplessly, vision going dark alarmingly quickly before he realizes he's let his eyes squeeze shut against the onslaught of feeling. He opens his eyes to see Brian watching him hazily again, cheeks red and pupils blown, pink lips hanging open. “Another,” John gets out, turning his head to rest his other cheek on Brian’s chest so he can look at Roger. His skin is hot against John’s cheek and Roger’s eyes are crinkled like he’s smiling, even if his mouth is hidden. “Give him another.”

Brian moans above him, fingers pulling hard at John’s hair. “Baby,” he gasps. “Rog, please.”

“You wanna come?” John murmurs.

“Please, I—I love you guys. _Please.”_

He lets go of Roger’s fingers to get a hand on Brian’s cock and watches his eyes drift unseeing to the ceiling before drifting shut. When he looks to Roger he just gets a tiny nod. He feels his breath catch as Freddie moves harder, faster, pleasure burning white hot up his spine. It's dizzying and he feels almost giddy with it. He feels like he could take on the world.

“You want something?” Freddie says against his neck. John can hear his smile and it makes him laugh breathlessly.

“I'm not gonna beg you,” he breathes.

“You sure?”

“I'm sure.”

“You _sure?”_ His thrusts slow down suddenly and his hand is warm pressure around his cock, matching the torturous pace.

“I'm sure,” John gasps, then laughs into Brian’s chest because the whole situation is getting to him suddenly, his love for all of them overflowing in his chest and taking his breath away. He can barely contain it all.

And then his laughter is replaced by a groan as Freddie bites gently at his ear.

“Deaky,” Brian gets out. “John, sweetheart.”

John focuses on his face suddenly: sharp jaw upturned, eyes shut, mouth open on a pant. His own hand is motionless on Brian’s cock; he starts before swiping the precome dripping from the head and then giving him a full stroke, and Brian’s lips part on a silent scream. He hears Roger huff a breath and feels his own pleasure building at the base of his spine.

“Freddie,” he says.

Freddie’s breath puffs against his ear as he laughs. “Yes?”

He thrusts that much harder, just as achingly slow. Roger’s wrist twists and Brian whimpers.

“Freddie,” John says again, warningly.

“Need something, gorgeous?”

Brian gasps, then breaks into a moan. Roger surfaces for a second to kiss his hip before resuming.

“Love,” John breathes into Brian’s sternum. He turns his head and Freddie is right there, chin hooked over his shoulder and cheeks flushed, eyes warm and bright. His hair is soft against his skin. His lips are soft too, addictive as John kisses him greedily. “Sweetheart,” he whispers against his mouth, and time slows around them. “Honey, come on.”

Freddie smiles. He can feel it. “You didn't say the magic word.”

“That’s the best you're getting,” John replies.

“You can do better than that.”

He feels overheated; feels oversensitive, like his veins are full of molten lead. It's driving him mad, so badly he can barely pull in a breath. Freddie’s thumb flicks over the head of his cock and he jerks into it, only to be filled with him again. “Please,” he breathes, and Freddie’s lips quirk against his own.

All at once his pace picks up and John’s breath catches. He has to work to gather his thoughts before he realizes Brian is squirming beneath him, and he starts before quickening his pace to match Freddie’s own. He's not gonna last; even after coming earlier he knows he's not gonna last. He muffles a moan into Brian’s chest again and feels Brian’s hand thread through his hair reverently.

“Please, _please,_ let me,” he pants, head thrown back.

Freddie kisses the corner of John’s mouth. “See how pretty he begs? Being so good for us?”

John bites Freddie’s lip once in warning, then flicks the head of Brian’s cock with his thumb again and watches him whimper.

Roger’s voice cuts through the fog in his brain. “You gonna come for us, sweetheart?”

Brian’s eyes crack open as he watches him wordlessly.

When John looks at him Roger’s lips are swollen red, his chin wet and his eyes sharp as he grins and keeps working his fingers. “Come on, Bri,” he teases.

“Rog--”

Freddie is nailing his prostate again and again, and he bites down onto John’s shoulder to muffle a moan. The pain ricochets off the pleasure and he has to fight off the urge to go boneless. He focuses instead on his hand around Brian’s cock and keeps it moving relentlessly even as every other part of his body goes limp.

“Come for us.” Roger says, voice low and husky. “Let go. Come on.”

He pushes back onto Freddie’s cock and feels Freddie’s thumbs dig hard into his hip bones as he presses a sweet kiss under his jaw. “John,” he murmurs. “Are you--”

“I’m close,” he gasps, squeezing his eyes shut. Sparks bloom behind his eyelids and he moves his fist faster around Brian’s cock.

He turns and catches Roger’s eye and Roger grins back. “Now, Bri,” he says. He twists his wrist again and bites his hip gently. “Come on, baby doll.”

John traces the vein on the underside of his cock and flicks his wrist.

Brian’s mouth falls open as he throws his head back on a moan, cock spurting across his chest in long pulses. His fingers tighten suddenly in John’s hair right as Freddie hits John’s prostate again and the world freezes on the edge for one moment before he falls over the other side, senses fizzing out.

He can register nothing but white hot pleasure racing through his blood as Freddie bites his shoulder one last time before freezing as he comes. Something about it goes straight to his head, leaving him gasping for breath as he comes to his senses. His limbs feel jumbled and jittery, static burning across his skin. His brain is floating somewhere in his skull, disconnected and entirely useless in pulling a single thought together.  Slowly he registers fingers still in his hair, this time lightly petting at his scalp. He feels Freddie’s breath against the side of his neck, feels liquid against his arm.

“You guys made a mess of each other,” Roger murmurs fondly. When John rolls his head it’s to see him sitting up with a smirk, chin wet. He wipes it against the back of his hand lazily. “Look at all of you.” John grins at him and gets a laugh in return. “You okay there, doll?”

“Mhmm.” He stretches his limbs as best as he can, wincing a bit as Freddie pulls out with a grumble and flops over sideways.

“Here, let’s get you cleaned up.” He picks up his own discarded shirt from the edge of the bed and wipes it across the backs of John’s thighs, then Brian’s stomach and the outside of John’s arm where his come must have splattered.

“You’re so good to us,” Freddie purrs theatrically.

“Oh, shut up,” Roger laughs. “You’re on laundry duty this weekend. John, roll over.”

John flops more than rolls, landing hard on his back somewhere between Brian and Freddie. He studies Roger as Roger looms above him, wiping him down quickly. Blue eyes flick up to his as he grabs hold of his belt loop. “You haven’t come yet,” he says.

‘No,” Roger says dubiously, swiping over his stomach again.

“You haven’t come at all and I’ve come twice,” he reiterates.

Roger scoffs. “It’s not a competition.”

“No. If it were a competition you’d be losing.”

“I think you’re losing anyway, honestly,” Freddie chimes in drily. He’s in the process of dragging Brian steadily closer. It’s made a little more challenging by the fact that Brian is essentially dead weight and John’s in between them anyway; John helps by sitting up quickly and moving into Roger’s space, and there, that’s much better for everyone.

“Let me help you,” John asks him quietly, hand on his fly.

Roger raises his eyebrows. “You don’t have to.”

“I said I wanted all three of you,” he says, then starts a little at his own daring. He waits for the heat to rise to his cheeks from embarrassment but it never does. Maybe that’s the golden haze surrounding everything doing the talking, then. “I still want to.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says doubtfully.

“Roger, if he’s asking you that nicely to fuck him won’t you just do it?” Freddie says loudly from where he’s still sprawled beside Brian. A second later a condom comes sailing through the air from Brian’s hand to make direct contact with Roger’s forehead.

Roger shoots them both a hard look, lips twitching into a smile when he sees John picking the thing up and pressing it toward his chest quickly. “Some virgin you’ve turned out to be,” he says.

“I’m not a virgin,” John replies, hit suddenly with a wave of giddiness that has a matching smile reaching his mouth. He unbuttons Roger’s jeans and starts working them down one-handed before Roger shucks them off himself and presses him down into the pillows and yep, he’s definitely ready for round three.

Round three. Jesus Christ.

“I guess you’re not, are you?” Roger asks him, lips to his throat. He runs a loose fist over John’s cock once and John gives a full-body twitch, still on this side of oversensitive. A minute later he gasps as callus-rough palms trace down his thighs before guiding his leg over Roger’s hip. “You’ve never really been particularly virginal either though, I suppose.”

“Is that a bad thing?” John asks, mock offended.

“No.” He laughs. “God, no. The way you used to watch me in the studio drove me half-mad, I tell you.”

“Yeah?” John breathes.

“Yeah.” He pauses to put the condom on. “Like I was food or something.”

John thinks about it—those early days when it was just the two of them in some shitty soundproofed room in the dorm’s basement, Roger banging away until he was physically incapable and then collapsing in a sweaty heap on the floor, looking wrecked in a way that twisted something horribly in John’s gut. He’s getting the same feeling now, like he’s spiralling dizzyingly back to the ground from the stratosphere. “Maybe I just couldn’t look away,” he replies.

Roger lines up before pushing in in one smooth thrust that has all the air leaving John’s lungs on a breath. “Tell me,” he says simply, then moves, sending sparks up John’s spine.

It’s easy to pull up the memories but much harder to put them into words; he flips restlessly through the mental slides until common themes overlap with the present and make his vision hazy. “Your hair,” he gets out. “It would always get stuck to the sweat on your neck and drive me crazy. Did you know? It was all I could think about, moving it out of the way and kissing you there. Marking you up. And your hands,” he says.

“My hands?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Your—the way your wrists move when you play.”

“What about it?” he pants. His body rolls in smooth waves like this, each thrust clean and direct.

John grins and grips his shoulders. The sensitivity is quickly fading, each movement turning warm and toe-curling instead of sharp and electric, and he feels his spine relax slowly into it. Hesitantly he tilts his hips to meet each thrust, matching Roger’s rhythm just as easily as he does in the studio. “I always wondered whether that was how you move when you—when you touch yourself, and if your face looked like that. When you get really lost in it.”

“Yeah?” Roger breathes, grinning. “Think about that a lot?”

“A little,” John replies.

“Ever get off to it?”

“Maybe.” Okay, just about every night the month after they first started playing together. Thoughts of Roger sprawled alone on his bed as he squirmed and whispered John’s name taunted him while he was awake _and_ asleep. They still do.

“I’d think of you sometimes,” Roger admits.

“Yeah?” John mimics, pulling him closer with his legs. He uses the leverage to make their movement that much harder, that much faster, and Roger’s next breath comes out as a puff against his neck. He smiles.

“Yeah. Yeah, your hips and the way you moved. Used to— _oh_ —the way you'd sway like that, it used to drive me crazy. The things I wanted to do to you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I felt like I was cheating on Brian and Freddie, beating off to you instead,” he says with a tiny laugh.

“Roger Taylor, you animal,” Freddie murmurs on the other side of the bed. Brian huffs out a laugh.

“Tell me,” John breathes.

He turns his head to see Freddie watching him raptly, Brian cradled in his arms. His chest is heaving, eyes dark and cock rapidly hardening in Freddie’s fist.

“In that awful practice room we had,” Roger gets out. “I wanted to just get on my knees for you.” His voice cracks on a moan. “Right there in front of the drum riser, and just go for it.”

John grins into his hair. He scrapes blunt fingernails down Roger’s shoulder blades just to hear him gasp and moves with him as his thrusts turn erratic. “Is that what you wanted?” he taunts quietly.

“Yeah—yeah.”

“I would have let you.”

“ _Fuck._ ”

“I bet you needed it so bad.”

“I did.”

“You would have looked so nice like that,” John says, thoughts wandering away from him. “Is that why you’re always mouthing off to us? You want something to shut you up?”

“God, you’re filthy,” he groans.

“I’m not the filthy one here,” he replies. Roger’s breath is coming quick now, each exhale bringing a breathy moan with it. He’s all but burning against John’s skin. “Anyone could’ve walked in on us there. Maybe that’s what you liked about it, though.”

He gasps raggedly. “John, I’m—”

“You’re close?” He doesn’t even really need to hear it. He can tell by his breath, by his movements, by the way his pulse beats against John’s lips when he presses them to his neck. It sends a wave of power through him that leaves him giddy as ever. He can do this to them. For all his inexperience he can drive them to this pleasure. He loves them and they love him back, love each other back. It’s overlaying with the arousal building in his gut. “Good. I wanna see you.”

“I think about—about all three of you all the time,” he breathes mindlessly. “What you’d sound like, what you’d look like. I’d try to imagine it.”

“You don’t need to anymore,” John says, then gasps when Roger shifts his thigh that much higher on his hips and brushes his prostate. “What about you, huh? You gonna show us how pretty you sound?”

“Fuck, John, I’m—”

“Come on,” John whispers. He can feel his own orgasm approaching and he staves it off fiercely. This night isn’t over yet. “Come on.”

Roger thrusts in one last time before freezing, face buried in John’s shoulder on a groan and fingers twitching against his thighs. John can feel his chest heaving against his own, his skin overheated and damp, strong shoulders twitching as he gathers himself. He pulls out slowly, kissing John’s jaw as he goes. “Shit,” he pants.

“Good?” John asks him.

His cheeks are flushed red, a satisfied smile resting on his mouth, and it sends a curl of arousal through him. “I’m good,” Roger answers. “Fuck. Are you good?”

“I will be,” John answers, turning to Brian.

He’s sprawled on the sheets, his own hand on his cock now as he watches with wide eyes. He makes to move but John slides out from beneath Roger first and straddles Brian’s hips before he can; pale fingers come up to steady him uncertainly.

“Can I?” John asks him.

“It’s tricky your first time,” Brian says.

“Walk me through it, then.”

“I won’t last long.”

“Neither will I,” John says, reaching for a condom and rolling it onto Brian’s cock easily. He carelessly dribbles some lube onto it before sitting down slowly, gasping at the stretch.

“Careful,” Freddie says from beside them. “Take it easy. Find what you like.”

John nods mindlessly and rolls his hips, thighs burning pleasantly as he rises up before sliding back down. It’s perfect, the friction of it. It isn’t quite what he needs, though. He hums in frustration and moves faster.

“Slow it down,” Brian murmurs. His hands grip John’s hips a little harder now, guiding him into an easy pace. “There you go.”

He leans forward then and arches his back, hands braced on Brian’s chest, and all at once it’s _good_. He grinds into it even slower, feels it tingle in his blood and moans.

“Like that?” Brian murmurs.

He nods helplessly, bouncing a little faster.

Brian’s hands smooth across his hips, eyes focused like they get in the studio sometimes, and then he pulls John down and matches his next thrust.

John isn’t quite sure what the sound is that leaves his mouth, but it makes Brian smile hazily all the same.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” John breathes.

“I won’t. I can’t. God, you’re so good.”

Each thrust is loud in the relative quiet of the room, punctuated by the moans John isn’t even sure how he has the ability to get out. They sound choppy and distorted all the same, but he can’t very well stop. All he knows is the burn in his legs and the increasing difficulty to catch his breath and Brian’s every thrust causing his brain to white out. It’s simultaneously better and more impossible like this; it feels like his body is on fire but he has to keep focusing on remaining upright, and he barely has power to do anything else but follow the rhythm Brian’s adopted from his own movements.

He’s distantly aware of Roger’s hand smoothing over his shoulder blade, warm and soothing. Freddie reaches up to flick one of his nipples and he lets out a guttural breath.

“That’s perfect,” Freddie breathes. “Look at you.”

It’s building rapidly below his navel, pleasure making everything cloudy and soft and electric. He babbles a string of words he can barely keep track of, and Brian’s eyelids flutter.

“Love, I can’t—I’m not gonna last.”

John takes in the glow in his cheeks, the haze of his eyes, the way his fingers are gripping his hips that much harder. He gives him a short nod and Brian lets out a breath before trailing his fingers across John’s hips to grip his cock. John drops further forward onto his chest, hair falling into his eyes before Roger gathers it carefully in his fist to keep it out of the way.

“You’re so pretty,” Roger murmurs. “Both of you. God.”

It’s building suddenly in his core, the fizz of it overwhelming. He falls forward a bit further to capture Brian’s lips finally, kissing him open-mouthed and messy before he has to catch his breath and ends up just moaning against his mouth instead.

“Yeah?” Brian breathes.

He squeezes his eyes shut and nods frantically, Roger’s hand tugging in his hair as he does and cutting through the haze. It all feels sharper, feels vivid and overwhelming. He’s still halfway to over sensitive but he can’t stop, can’t stop bouncing back onto Brian’s cock and bucking up into his fist and trying to drive them both faster and faster, stuttering in rhythm and losing pace.

“Sweetheart, I’m not—”

“I know,” John pants against his lips. “I know, I know. Me too.”

He feels more than sees Brian’s lip wobble against his own as he whimpers. Freddie’s fingers drift lightly across John’s ribs to rest just above the curve of his ass, his hand rubbing soothing circles there. Roger’s fist tightens in his hair and Brian bucks up harder, his hand moving almost frantically over John’s cock.

His orgasm hits him all at once, tearing a broken cry out of him as his cock spurts what little it has left all over Brian’s chest. He feels like he’s floating away with it, bones suddenly warm and heavy. Distantly he’s aware of Brian’s hand still moving steadily over his cock, working him through it and making him shake. He’s practically lifting all John’s weight as he continues to guide his hips in easy little motions, Freddie helping him along.

It’s a long, golden moment before John pulls enough of his frayed brain together to resume his movement again, twitching through the sensitivity and aftershocks and the protest in his thighs. He can tell Brian’s close anyway; he’s familiar now with the way his eyes flicker and his lips tremble.

“I love you so much,” John breathes against his jaw.

Brian’s hips stutter once before shuddering with a harsh moan, eyes squeezing shut as he comes. John watches him gasp through it, brow furrowed. When he slips out finally John barely manages to stifle a grunt.

“I didn’t—did I hurt you?” Brian asks quickly, alarm cutting through his still glassy eyes.

John shakes his head. At Freddie’s impatient tug against his waist he rolls off him, taking the moment to stretch his legs out as far as they’ll go. Freddie rubs his side soothingly as he does.

“It’s always hell on the legs. It’s hard the first time.”

“Worth it,” John breathes.

 He aches everywhere in the best way. There’s a vicious burn in his legs and a weight to his arms that usually only comes with a hard day of exercise, his lungs feel stretched like he just ran a marathon and his throat is oddly hoarse. All of it is punctuated by the afterglow of pleasure and satisfaction, his brain still unable to put together a single unfragmented thought.

Brian looks similarly worn out next to him. He barely twitches as Roger mops up his chest before throwing the soiled shirt dismissively across the room; when he leans in to kiss him Brian accepts it with a surprised hum.

“We need to take an actual shower,” Roger says. “We’re all filthy.”

“I just took a shower,” Brian complains faintly.

“And yet you have about three different people’s come on you right now.”

“I wanna get you cleaned up either way,” Freddie murmurs to John. “You’ll feel so much better.”

“Better?”

“You falling asleep on us?”

“Mmh.”

Freddie kisses the back of his neck. “You did so good for us,” he says with a breathless laugh. “You were so good. Let us take care of you, okay?”

They always take care of him. They take care of each other. They’re so good that way. “Mkay,” he mumbles.

Freddie laughs quietly into his hair as Roger gets up to dig through their tiny linen closet. Distantly John notes Brian getting up and going into the bathroom to turn the shower on. Roger comes back and Freddie gently pulls John to his feet, supporting him all the way to the bathroom.

“Bri,” he calls through the curtain, helping John step over the edge of the tub as he tries to balance on shaky legs.

“Oh—here, come here,” Brian replies.

He’s wet and clean and warm, and normally it would send a jab of vicious arousal through John’s gut but here in the afterglow it just feels achingly domestic to see him like this. He’s put his hair up to keep it from getting wet, strands frizzing at the edges and sticking to his skin. He smells like soap when John steps into his arms.

“Freddie, you can fit in here, too,” Brian says.

John hears Freddie’s feet against the tiles behind him and then feels his hands against his waist a minute later. “We’re gonna need a place with a bigger tub,” he mutters conversationally as Brian starts lathering John’s skin.

“The only bubble bath we’ll be able to share will have to be a swimming pool,” John mumbles, and the other two laugh quietly.

“Glad to hear you’re with us again,” Freddie teases, pushing him further under the spray and massaging his aching arms as Brian finishes up. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he says, catching Brian’s gaze with a tiny smile.

“Was it good?”

“It was perfect,” he says, and now his smile is a full on grin.

Roger laughs from the other side of the curtain. “Losing your virginity isn’t supposed to be perfect,” he teases.

“You should have tried harder to make it awful, then,” John says. Freddie laughs against his shoulder.

“Is there any room for me in there?”

“We’re hopping out,” Brian says, guiding John by the hand and immediately wrapping him in a towel. “Freddie, we’ll be in the other room.”

All their fussing is making something warm bloom underneath his ribs even as he tries to tamp it down. He doesn’t protest until Brian sits him on the edge of the bed and begins methodically drying his hair. “I can do it myself,” he says.

Brian shakes his head with a wry smile. “I know.”

It’s hard to argue with that.

He finishes just as Roger and Freddie enter, immediately flopping into bed. John gets dragged down between them only for Brian to flop onto his other side and try to spoon all three of them at once, and from there it’s a mess of limps and huffed laughs as they all try to get situated. By the time they’re settled sleep is already dragging at his brain.

“Love you guys,” Freddie whispers.

Brian hums. “Love you.”

“Love you,” Roger murmurs into John’s collarbone.

“Love you,” John whispers. It doesn’t really feel like enough to describe the feeling in his chest. “I love you so, so much,” he tries again even quieter, and that feels a little better.

He relaxes a little further into their warmth and lets the rhythm of their breaths wash over him, in perfect counterpoint to each other. Between one beat and the next he’s drifted off into oblivion, his lovers warm and safe around him.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a few more things planned for this verse that are decidedly less smutty, but I thought I'd get this one out first since it's already complete! Please let me know what you think :-)


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